Irene Makarin was born in 1930, the daughter of Anna and Mike Borenin. After Anna died in 1933, Mike was left with two older sons and three-year-old Irene. Andrew and Eustina approached him and he gave permission for them to adopt Irene. Their home became her home; she became their daughter. Irene’s descriptions of Biorka prior to World War II portrayed a village that was well-suited to subsistence activities. The island was rich with blueberries, salmonberries, and mossberries. A local leaf was used for tea. It was picked in September and October, brought indoors and dried. It was then mixed with regular tea to extend that more expensive product. Water was drawn from the lake and when the water level fell it was collected from a stream or spring on the side of the hill and carried to the homes. This was a job given to children who used small buckets. ...
Irene remembered standing outside at Biorka and waving at the Japanese planes. This would have been on the first day of the bombing when the planes flew over Beaver Inlet. “All the kids that are playing outside, they’re standing there, waving at them,” Irene said. “They don’t bother us, just past the Biorka. They go around that lake over there. They go around and they come back and they’re really low. All the kids are standing up, waving at them. They were waving at us, too.” ...
Irene was inside when her father returned, spoke to his wife in Unangam tunuu, and told Irene to collect her clothes. She had no suitcase and so she used a flour sack. While the Biorka people gathered their belongings, the military men waited at the shore. By the time everyone arrived, it had grown dark. Irene recalled that they took a skiff out to a small vessel—“too small”— leaving their homes behind. “Holy Smoke,” Irene said, “they left—all the Biorka people—they left a lot of stuff. My mom and dad used to have chickens, dogs and cats, everything. They left a lot of good stuff in their houses.” The fish were left drying on racks. It was late and the children had fallen asleep when they arrived at a dock. Irene was awakened and led off the ship. “Me, I’m just crying,” she recalled. “I want my daddy, you know. Couldn’t see my daddy.” They walked past soldiers who stood in a line watching them as they boarded the Columbia. ...
Ward Lake [Unangax̂ / Aleut Relocation Camp] sits a little inland from Ward Cove. The cove opens to the northern end of a long channel, one of the innumerable waterways weaving through the Inside Passage. But despite all that water, the camp itself was land-locked and shadowed by forest. “My first impression,” said William Ermeloff, “was that it seemed dark, because of the trees surrounding it.” Dark and damp. As much as anything, the dampness troubled Luke Shelikoff of Akutan. He referred to the camp as “a damp old thing” where the “ground was wet all the time.” It was oppressive and unhealthy. “But talk about damp, we stayed under the woods, up here [at Akutan] we see the sun every day, nothing blocks the [sun] because there are no trees up here.” ...
